


Week 5: Gladiolus / Strength of Character

by DramioneLDWS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24625648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramioneLDWS/pseuds/DramioneLDWS
Summary: Each chapter is an individual drabble written by a single participant.Please mind the tags/triggers at the top of each entry. Only major Archive warnings will be noted.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 56
Kudos: 46
Collections: Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing - Round 1





	1. Synonyms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Synonyms  
>  Rating: T  
>  Word Count: 498  
>  Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [LumosLyra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumosLyra/pseuds/LumosLyra)

This creative writing class was going to kill her. 

Taking it on as part of her degree electives had been the most idiotic thing Hermione had ever decided to do and she’d ridden on the back of a dragon for goodness sake. While she could write research papers without even batting an eye, there was something about creative writing that was intensely difficult. Perhaps it was because she was privy to a world that seemed nigh-on-impossible to non-magical folk, though it was likely that she preferred her world to align in nice, neat, color-coded rows. 

Still, Hermione Jean Granger never backed down from a challenge. 

Her professor had provided a set of synonyms to stand as the theme from which to develop a short story based around a central character and Hermione’s list had been giving her a headache for a week. 

_Fortitude, Resilience, Strength of Character, Steadfastness, Courage, Bravery, Pluck._

None of those should have been difficult to write about as a Gryffindor. 

With a groan, Hermione collapsed back onto the sofa in the study and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. 

“Still struggling with that paper?” Hermione could tell from the sound of Draco’s voice that he was across the room, probably leaning against the frame of the door. 

“Yes.”

“Do you want some help?” Her legs were lifted and the sofa cushions shifted until Draco was sitting next to her and her feet found a comfortable spot in his lap as he rubbed the sore soles through her brightly colored striped socks. 

“I guess? After everything we went through as kids, it just feels ridiculous to write a story around another act of bravery. And if I do pull something from our lives—” Draco gently pulled her hands from her eyes and threaded their fingers together. ”—it feels like I’m cheating because then it’s more a biography since it actually happened—not that Professor Carrington would have any bloody idea.” 

After all, what muggle would believe the courage of a fourteen-year-old girl as she howled at the moon to direct a werewolf away from their path, the strength of character that came from defying the Dark Lord as Draco did, or the sheer fortitude it took for Harry to walk to his death?

“You know what else is brave?” Hermione’s eyes fluttered open as Draco rested their hands on her swollen belly and the small life growing inside of her nudged their joined hands. “Being a mother.” 

A small smile rose to her lips as she muttered to herself, naming off the mothers in her own life, each of them courageous in their own right. “My mum, your mum, Harry’s mum, Mrs. Weasley.” 

She nearly knocked Draco over when she sat upright, her eyes sparkling and a wide grin lighting up her face. “Draco, you’re brilliant!” 

“That’s my girl.“ Draco leaned forward and kissed Hermione’s forehead, chuckling softly, his hand still pressed against her rounded abdomen. “I’ll bring you some tea.”


	2. At the Heart of the Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: At the Heart of the Manor  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warning: Mentions of Torture
> 
> AUTHOR: [TheLastLynx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastLynx/pseuds/TheLastLynx)

It is ten years after the War, and no-one has seen Hermione Granger since. The last that is known from her is that she’s taken hostage at Malfoy Manor, tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange and Voldemort.

It is believed she’s died under questioning–but there are whispers of a curse. Luna Lovegood insists her spirit lingers, that she’s still somewhere, brave and unbroken. Weasley doesn't believe a thing. He marries another witch with wild hair and kind eyes, but without _her _strength and wits. Potter keeps searching. He’s aged early, laden with grief and guilt for not saving her then. It’s not enough that he’s defeated Voldemort. It’s not enough that peace is restored.__

__And how could it?_ _

__How, if the witch whose labours made peace possible, isn’t here to enjoy its fruits?_ _

__It is this Draco Malfoy ponders as he walks through his gardens. Every day the same route, past the neatly-trimmed rose bushes that have lined the Manor walls for centuries; through the Wiggentree groves that hide your sorrow from prying eyes, a place to cry and curse the stars._ _

__The gravel crunches under his feet as he walks up to his favourite place: the heart of the gardens. Amid a labyrinth of Flutterby bushes, quivering into new formations as he passes, there grows a single gladiolus._ _

__It’s majestic, beautiful. Over five feet tall, white, with specks of ruby-red, it watches over the gardens, a perfect view of all that is his._ _

__Draco clutches the phial in his left as he falls to his knees in adoration, the secret he guards jealously weighing him down with its responsibility._ _

__Draco _knows_ what’s happened that fateful night ten years ago; the scenes, both horrible and beautiful, have haunted and enchanted his dreams since:_ _

__Hermione Granger never lost the fire in her eyes as aunt Bella shouted _Crucio_ after _Crucio_ , nor the strength in her heart as the Dark Lord tried and tried to break her mind._ _

__Hermione stays strong, loyal, kind._ _

__Draco still hears the Dark Lord’s cruel laughter as he realises that she won’t give up her secrets._ _

__“You will not bow to me? Then you shall bow to no-one!”_ _

__The Gladiolus abruptly sprouting from the Manor floor is meant to be hideous and small. It is tall and white instead, lovelier than anything Draco has seen before._ _

__The Dark Lord falls._ _

__The Gladiolus grows–stronger and stronger each day, safe and secret in the heart of Draco’s garden._ _

__Draco pours the potion over the Gladiolus and it preens, turning its majestic head to face him as if to say “Thank you.” The red spots on her pale petals are growing, like she’s blushing. A good sign._ _

__Draco returns her smile. One of these days, he’ll break the curse. One of these days, Hermione Granger will live to enjoy the peace. Until then, he’ll keep her safe, the secret secure. Until then, he sits down to tell her about his day, nurturing her with his love, growing each day._ _


	3. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Deal  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 497  
> Warnings: Depictions of Violence(Non-graphic)
> 
> AUTHOR: [KoraKunkel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraKunkel/pseuds/KoraKunkel)

“My Lord, we have the girl.” 

Draco’s heart hammered in his chest as Yaxley and Dolohov dragged in a very skinny and dishevelled Hermione. Her wild curls looked like they hadn’t been brushed in weeks, and her sallow cheeks hinted towards malnourishment. 

“So, Hermione Granger...” Voldemort’s calm voice said with mild curiosity. “You are quite a difficult mudblood to catch.” 

Her honey-coloured eyes darted to Draco, and he tried to pour every ounce of love that he had for her into his icy-grey. Voldemort had searched for her for weeks, and Draco knew of the plans he had in store. He had to do something; he had to get Hermione out of this somehow. 

Dolohov yanked on Hermione’s curls, tossing her to the ground in front of Voldemort’s feet. She scrambled to her knees and stared defiantly into the snake-like slits of his eyes. 

“You can do whatever you want to me, but I will _never_ tell you where Harry is.”

Voldemort’s eerie chuckle filled the room, his smile cruel. “Oh, my dear. It’s sweet that you think you have a choice. Yaxley.” 

Before the Death Eater could drag her to the nearby chair, Draco was suddenly standing between them. With wide eyes, he tried to think of something to say to get them out of this, but no words formed. 

“Draco, what are you doing?” His father hissed from the corner of the room. 

“My, my, Draco. Have a little courage today, hm?” Voldemort fixed his glare to him, making a shiver run down his spine. “I assumed your father would have beaten that spirit out of you long ago. Another failing, Lucius.”

Draco’s father snapped to a low bow and muttered strings of apologies, though Voldemort paid no mind to them. 

“So, what is it we have here? You throw yourself in front of this disgusting mudblood to save her? And for what?” Voldemort’s gaze roamed between the two of them, Draco still trying to hide Hermione behind his shaking body. 

“Oh.” Voldemort began to cackle again, “Oh, I see. You _love_ her.” With a flick of his wand, Draco was bound and brought in front of him. “You’re just as pathetic as your father. However, I think a lesson can come from this. Yes...yes. Make a deal with me, Draco. Her life, for your memories, and I will forget this transgression.” 

Draco’s heart raced, and his voice came out in a hoarse whisper. “My... memories?” 

Voldemort sneered, “I swear not to kill her, but any memories you have with her must be erased. _Permanently._ ” 

Draco glanced down to Hermione; she mouthed “No,” to him, pleading with her eyes not to make the deal. 

But what choice did he have? He couldn’t let her die; she could win him all over again. 

Hiding that glimmer of hope, Draco turned back to Voldemort and nodded once. Voldemort lifted his wand, and Hermione’s echoing sobs were the last thing he heard before his mind went blank.


	4. Prepared for Anything… Except That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Prepared for Anything… Except That  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 488  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [FaeOrabel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeOrabel/pseuds/FaeOrabel)

Hermione walked through the Ministry on her way to get ready for her big argument against the Wizengamot for house elf rights. She’d been working toward this day for the last year and felt like she was prepared for anything. 

Her stride stuttered when she heard voices whispering intensely inside a room as she passed. Unable to resist upon hearing her name, she stopped and tip-toed closer to the cracked door. 

“I’m just saying, you don’t have to do this just because you hate her. You know she’s right. She’s going to win,” a male voice, that Hermione knew intimately from school, said. 

“And I’m just saying, just because you want to get inside her knickers doesn't mean I have to just let her win. She isn’t even around to hear you defend her, so you’re just wasting your time,” a female voice argued. 

“I’m not just trying to get into her knickers, Pansy. We both know this is the right thing to do. Anything you say, she’s going to counter. The old ways are over. Even my elves are doing way better since I freed them and let them work for me of their own volition,” Malfoy countered.

A hand slammed on the table and Hermione jumped, not having seen the loud noise coming. 

“Well that's great for you, but if this passes, I’m going to lose all of my elves!” Pansy shrieked. 

There was a beat of silence.

“Then maybe you should have treated them better.”

Hermione couldn't help the satisfied noise that escaped. She immediately covered her mouth and disillusioned herself, moving away from the door. 

“What was that?” she heard Pansy ask. 

Hermione stayed silent and held her breath when the door to the room opened, both occupants peeking out. After looking up and down the hall, Pansy turned back to Malfoy and jabbed her finger into his chest. 

“I’m still going to fight,” she declared and then stomped off, seemingly in the direction of the Wizemgamot to get ready for Hermione’s argument. 

Distracted by watching Pansy leave, she didn’t notice the hard body that appeared right in front of her. “So, how much did you hear, Granger?” 

Hermione’s head whipped around with a gasp, and her spell failed. She was suddenly looking up into the smirking face of Draco Malfoy as he boxed her in so she couldn't leave. 

“Just the tail end,” Hermione admitted breathlessly.

Then, in a move that surprised them both, she wrapped her hand around the back of Malfoy’s neck and pulled his face to meet hers. She kissed him with abandon and then pulled back, her eyes still closed and their noses brushing against one another. 

“That’s for believing I’m going to win,” she pecked his lips once more, “and that’s for freeing your elves.”  
Draco was frozen in place, but made it to the chamber just in time to see Hermione mop the floor with Pansy’s argument.


	5. Steadfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Steadfast  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 498  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [anne_ammons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anne_ammons/pseuds/anne_ammons)

Five years. It had been five long years. 

Hermione sat at her desk with her head in her hands and exhaled. At least she could say she had done everything she could. It was in the hands of the Wizengamot now. Sadly, it was much the same tribunal that had acted so rashly to begin with, sentencing a boy for the actions of adults. It was as if they thought being harsh in the aftermath could make up for their own hand in allowing Riddle to rise to power. 

While she couldn’t help that, she could ensure her client received the best defense available, instead of the farce of representation he had been given after a war that so many were ready to put behind them. 

They hadn’t wanted to reopen his case. They had argued he was best left to rot in Azkaban with the other Death Eaters. 

She didn’t listen. Wasn’t justice what they had fought for? Wasn’t that what Harry had been willing to lay down his life for? That no one should be seen as more or less than their own abilities and actions?

Her zeal had come at a cost, as she remained singularly focused on the case. She knew she would only have one shot, so she felt her time was better spent reading book after book, trying to find what would help, rather than frivolities like hanging out at the Leaky. Ron had drifted away, saying he was unable to compete with the case. He didn’t understand. 

Harry just looked at her sadly, “It’s like _you’re_ the one locked away, Hermione. You have to live.”

“But Harry, it’s the right thing to do.” What else could she say? She didn’t dare speak of stolen kisses and how her heart had been broken the night Dumbledore was killed.

She eyed the vase of gladiolas sitting on her credenza. A new bouquet arrived like clockwork each week to replace the last regardless of the time of year. They were always vibrant and fresh, a rare spot of beauty in an office piled high with dusty books and papers.

There had never been a card, but she suspected she knew who had sent them.

Although she never said a word, Draco’s mother sat in the front row at each hearing. Hermione wondered if she sat there to remind the Wizengamot that if not for her, the war might not have ended so quickly.

Hermione allowed herself a brief moment to close her eyes, letting the weight of everything wash over her. This was it. All that was left was to hear whether her work had been enough, whether Draco would be released or spend his remaining days in prison. And if he was released, what then? She had never allowed herself to think that far ahead.

There was a knock at the door and her heart quickened.

“It’s time. They’ve reached a decision.”

She took a breath and rose, ready to meet her fate.


	6. Pierced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Pierced  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 452  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Art3misiA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Art3misiA/pseuds/Art3misiA)

“Ugh! You’re impossible, Malfoy!”

Draco tried not to let his amusement show as Granger threw her hands up in the air in frustration before beginning to berate him. Her little outbursts were just so... _her_.The way her hair crackled and seemed to expand, the way the frown line appeared between her brows, the way her face would flush, accentuating her high, elegant cheekbones…

He dodged reflexively, and an inkpot sailed past his ear, missing him by centimetres. “Are you even listening?” she shrilled.

“No, not really,” Draco replied, knowing how much it would infuriate her.

Granger let out a growl and stormed out of the meeting room.

They were both curse breakers, and to Draco’s secret delight, their boss had paired them together for an important mission, saying he wanted his best two staff on the job. They had been working - and fighting - for two weeks, and he was enjoying every minute.

Ever since Hogwarts, he had harboured an infatuation for the muggleborn witch. Her fierceness, her magical prowess, her intelligence and passion had pierced his heart just as surely as the Sword of Gryffindor had pierced the bodies of the house founder’s enemies.

This was his chance to reach out to her, to bridge the divide and convince her he wasn’t the arsewipe he had been in school. That he had strength of character, a sense of right and wrong. He was determined to win her friendship, and eventually, her affections. 

He checked his watch. Lunchtime. Gathering up his cloak, Draco left the Ministry and wandered down the street, looking at nothing in particular. He passed a stall selling flowers, stopped, and retraced his steps. 

“See anything you like, sir?” asked the seller.

“Are those Gladioli?” He pointed at some colourful blooms tied in bunches. Their stalks were tall and proud, the heads bright, strong, and regal. They were perfect.

The seller nodded. “Freshly cut this morning.”

“I’ll take a large bunch. Make sure you include every colour you have,” Draco ordered.

“Right away, sir,” the seller replied, hastening to arrange them.

Taking the bouquet, he headed back to the Ministry with a spring in his step. He would cast a preservation charm to keep them at their best, then use the internal owl post to send them to her anonymously.

Later, he watched from an alcove as Granger returned to her desk. She stopped short, then moved forward cautiously and reached for the flowers. Lifting them to her nose, she inhaled, smiled, then glanced quickly around the room, eyeing the other workers contemplatively. Draco moved further into the shadows so she wouldn't notice him.

It had begun. He would win her heart if it took him an entire lifetime.


	7. Revelations and Renewal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Revelations and Renewal  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [I_was_BOTWP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_was_BOTWP/pseuds/I_was_BOTWP)

Two pops of Apparition sounded from the front parlour, the only room in the Grimmauld Place where Harry allowed anyone through his wards. _Anyone_ included only a handful of people who were keyed to the wards.

"I've missed you." Harry smiled over his shoulder from where he stood in the library, in front of the Black Family tapestry. Hermione moved to Harry's side. Her best friend slipped an arm around her waist, giving a squeeze. "Never expected you'd be gone over a month."

"The rites I developed were a bit more complicated than we anticipated."

Stepping beside Hermione, Draco traced his fingers along the branch leading to his picture. "It's still difficult to believe we never knew flowers were hidden behind the leaves." The branch shivered beneath his touch and the leaves parted, revealing tiny white hawthorn flowers.

"I've been searching and reading while you were off doing… whatever it is you've been doing." Harry ran a finger beneath Regulus' picture. A yellow carnation bloomed, then faded. His finger followed along the branch to where Sirius had been burnt off, but no flowers emerged. Harry sighed. "I finally found a reference in Licorus Black's diaries. I think he's the one who did something to hide the flowers, after his brother Eduardus was disowned."

Harry moved to Licorus' spot on the tree and touched his picture. Purple hyacinths materialized. "He wrote the family didn't deserve the magic of the flowers anymore if everyone was just going to ignore their meaning. Makes you wonder what Eduardus' flower was. But I still couldn't find anything about how spouses used to show up."

Further beyond Licorus, by nearly 300 years, Blacks by marriage nested next to their husband or wife. Harry had allowed Hermione to carefully experiment on the tapestry, seeking a way to make it chronicle marriages again. That's when the flowers had surprisingly appeared.

"Well, if we did everything correctly, which I believe we did," Hermione said while Draco pulled an athame from his robes, "then lack of a written record won't matter. A drop of both our blood onto the tapestry should create a new offshoot for me."

Harry eyed the goblin-wrought tool. "No spells needed?"

"The necessary spells were, _among other things_ , a part of our binding." Draco grinned wolfishly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and stuck her hand out to Draco. "Harry doesn't want to hear about that."

A quick prick of both their thumbs, and they were pressing blood into the woven strands of Draco's name.

The air felt thick with anticipation.

Draco's name changed first, _Black_ appearing behind _Malfoy_. Next, a bud developed beside his picture, growing into a series of thin branches. Finally, a new picture formed.

"It even got the hair right."

"Shut it, Draco," Hermione whispered.

She stepped up, staring at herself in amazement. Reaching out a tentative hand, she touched the tapestry. The leaves around her likeness shifted to reveal—

"Gladiolus," Draco said. "Strength of character or moral integrity. There's no ignoring that."


	8. A Fully Lived Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: A Fully Lived Life  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 493  
> Warning: Major Character Death, Euthanasia, Assisted Suicide
> 
> AUTHOR: [Msmerlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Msmerlin/pseuds/Msmerlin)

Hermione was no stranger to loss.

Not after fighting in a war that claimed so many innocent lives, and then living through the traumatic fall out in the years that followed. 

She wasn’t particularly afraid of death. She’d come to terms with meeting her maker at the ripe age of eighteen and felt prepared ever since.

But what Hermione feared, more than anything else in the world, was being alone. Which was more than a little ironic considering the amount of time she spent in solitude growing up.

Life post-war had given her a new perspective. A new lease on life, as her parents would say.

She found herself eager to be surrounded by friends and family. She’d craved the chaos of a fully lived life. So she lost herself in meaningful work, and took new risks.

Perhaps it had been that new line of thinking that helped her find love in the arms of a man she would have never considered previously.

Draco Malfoy.

The love of her life. The beat to her heart. She fell hopelessly in love with the blond wizard at twenty-one, was married by twenty-three, and gave birth to their first child by twenty-four and their last by thirty.

Four beautiful children. They had decided early on a big family—though neither had planned on Lyra’s surprised entrance six years after having Rigel, but the number fit.

Their once quiet lives had been filled with noise. Laughter rang down the somber halls of Malfoy Manor, and soon the placid memories were replaced with life. Their little family brought meaning and happiness to a place that previously held so many dark memories.

The years ticked by, and one by one their children went off to Hogwarts, then off to start their adult lives, and once again it was just her and Draco. But still, the house never fell silent.

They hosted gatherings with friends. They held business meetings and garden parties. They lived— _thrived._

Fifty-five years of life together had created a beautiful chaos that Hermione cherished. And yet, now that she was here, meeting Death with open arms, she couldn’t help but wonder if it had been long enough.

Her withered hand lifted to touch Draco’s. Sunspots and paper-thin skin, she was far from the woman he’d fallen in love with, but every day he looked at her like she was still twenty-three. Now on her deathbed, it was no different.

“It’s time, my love.” Her throat was raw, the experimental potions she’d taken to try and prolong the curse's effects having long since ruined her voice.

Tears sparkled in his blue eyes like diamonds. Beautiful in his sorrow. “I’m not ready.”

They never would be. If given a choice, she would never leave his side, but her body couldn’t take much more. She wanted to leave on her own terms. To look death in the face and laugh. To own her exit from this fully lived life. “I know.”


	9. They Bring Out Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: They Bring Out Your Eyes  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 495  
> Warnings: Implied Character Death, Implied Alcoholism
> 
> AUTHOR: [StoneAndRoses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoneAndRoses/pseuds/StoneAndRoses)

“These flowers are ridiculous Hermione.”

She smirked from her chair in front of the fireplace.“I think they bring out your eyes. The white of the really pulls out the stormy grey. At least I gave you _some_ Slytherin green ”

He scoffed, looking around. “It’s just the chair though. You could have at least given me a better tie. These flowers are too tropical for England.”

She shook her head, “You were a potions master who dealt with rare ingredients. The Malfoy estate holds fifty-eight potions patents thanks to your research. I thought they fit.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Mrs. Malfoy, this is quite the amalgamation: a potions stand and cauldron, a bookcase full of rare books, a Slytherin green wingback chair, a portrait of Mother, and gladiolus. Roses would have fit much better. You could have at least given me some Firewhiskey.”

“I absolutely was not going to give you alcohol, you’d just go back to your teenage ways.”

“My Dear, it hasn’t been a problem since before we reconnected. That was decades ago. Firewhiskey had nothing to do with my-”

She waved her hand dismissively, “Yes, yes, I know. It was old age. That and I think you inhaled too many potions fumes. I’m not happy about you abandoning me by the way.”

“Oh so that’s why you gave me these absurd flowers?” he said, smirking. That smirk still made her melt.

“No,” she said quietly. “I gave you those damn flowers because you are the strongest man I know. You raised a son that you were terrified of failing into the second best man I know. You fought for me, and the rest of your family on multiple occasions. Draco, you even forgave your incredibly bigoted Father. Those flowers are meant to remind everyone, including yourself, how good of a man you are… were.” The tears were starting to fall down her face now. 

“Love, please don’t be upset. Tell me about Scorpius, how is he doing?”

“Much better. Although he accused me of keeping you to myself.”

Draco laughed, “Like I would survive a day in the portrait hall. Too many relatives I’d want to hex.”

“Scorp wanted to put you in the family room.”

“He does realize I’ll only be active until you pass through as well, right?”

She gulped, “Yes, I think he does. But he’s hoping that won’t be for a while… I promised him that the family can come talk to you whenever they’d like.”

“I can’t wait to see my granddaughter.” 

“Lyra’s been into unicorns lately. She’ll probably ask you to read _Fantastic Beasts_.”

“I assume the shelf is the same as our bedroom?”

She nodded. 

“Alphabetical by topic, then Alphabetical by author,” they said in sync.

“I’m glad to see some things don’t change,” he said with a soft smile.

“I love you, Draco,” she said, teary again.

“I love you too, Hermione. Even if your taste in portraiture is questionable.”


	10. Echoing Eternal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Echoing Eternal  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 498  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [NuclearNik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik/pseuds/NuclearNik)

It's early summer and Draco is standing in the drawing room of his family home, the echo of past suffering reverberating through him.

The memories are so clear it's as if they're happening now, in real time. With remembrance comes the visceral reminder of the copper tang of blood in the air, the raw screams of a witch he'd been taught to hate ringing in his ears.

In the dining room, though the house is empty and has been for years, the table is full, Voldemort's most trusted sitting in the cherished antique chairs his mother had inherited.

He sees Charity Burbage suspended above the long table, feels his stomach twist like it did that day when he'd had to duck outside to empty its contents behind the rose bushes.

There are happy memories here too. When he looks out the floor to ceiling windows in the ballroom, he sees himself flying just above the ground on his very first broom, his father and mother standing on the sidelines emanating pride and concern, respectively.

In the den, his family is gathered to celebrate Yule, a log burning in the fireplace as Draco sneaks sweets into his pockets for later under his mother's nose, and the scent of evergreen is heavy in his nostrils.

The soft _thwap_ of trainers on the marble floor interrupts his journey through the past, and he turns to see Hermione emerge from the corridor, a smidge of dust on her cheek and a load of books balanced precariously in her arms.

The sight of her—whole and at peace—grounds him and brings him back to the now, the pain of all the mistakes he's made receding to a dull throb.

"Found some you like?"

He'd given her dominion over the manor's library as they'd been packing things up, preparing to sell.

No longer did he want the spectres of their past haunting them; it was time to make their own home, their own family. 

It struck him then, how lucky he is to have been given a second chance. A chance to be on the receiving end of a love so powerful it stole his breath sometimes.

Hermione Granger had swept into his life and given him a reason to keep going, to grow and learn and change. 

He is nothing without her.

Her cheeks are pink and the frizzy ends of her hair are swaying with her enthusiasm as she gushes over special editions and tomes she's only ever seen in history books.

All day, he could stand here and listen to her speak about the things that make her eyes light up, but twilight is fading fast, and he doesn't want to be on the property when that happens. Too many ghosts, real or otherwise.

Bending down, he picks up the box of things he wants to keep with one arm and wraps the other around her, pulling her into his side as they walk through the foyer and finally go _home_.


	11. Beneath a blue midmorning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Beneath a blue midmorning  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [FemmeBrulee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FemmeBrul%C3%A9e/pseuds/FemmeBrul%C3%A9e)

“Are you sure you got enough sleep last night?” 

“I– I think so, yeah.”

His skin is pale against the cloudless blue of midmorning. He tugs at the collar of his pressed black shirt, his throat bobbing with the weight of what he must do. 

She laces her fingers through his and gently squeezes his hand as the wrought-iron gates swing open before them. It is a gesture of assurance, as much for him as it is for herself.

Time has not touched the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Tall, evergreen hedges flank them as they walk down a cobblestone path, before giving way to a vast flower garden. All around them are rose bushes and waving stalks of lavender, peony shrubs and sun-coloured daffodil blossoms. She wonders how much of this is a facade, a lie Narcissa Malfoy tells herself to pretend that the war has not destroyed her family.

Draco stops beside a plot of bleeding pink gladioli, looking up at the high black walls of the Manor. 

"I wanted so much to be like him," he says quietly after a long pause. "I was ready to curse anyone who so much as sneered in his direction."

His hand is trembling in hers as she presses it to her chest. “You don’t have to do this today, you know,” she tells him. “Not this week, or even this year. We can come back when you’re ready.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I have to do this. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Besides marrying you, of course,” he adds, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smile as he tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

She nods and leans into his arms. She is nervous too, of course. If her memories of Malfoy Manor are any indication of what was to come, then she should be on the other side of that gate. But he needs her today and that is enough.

“I can’t keep avoiding him,” he mutters resolutely. “What will it say about me if I can’t take my wife to see my own father? I respected the man once, but I now see how wrong he was, how utterly misguided. And if I can’t stand up to him and tell him that to his face, then I don’t deserve to be your husband, Hermione.”

“I’m proud of you, Draco,” she whispers into the crook of his neck. “And I’ll be here no matter what happens.”

They hold onto each other for just a moment more before continuing up the garden path toward the house.

He probably didn’t expect to square up to his past on a blue spring morning, surrounded by the colours and the sharp, sweet scent of flowers. But Hermione likes to think that maybe it is a sign. 

The front door looms tall and heavy before them, bearing a large silver serpent’s head at its centre.

He takes a deep breath and knocks.


	12. Lacking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Lacking  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 414  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [TheMourningMadam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMourningMadam/pseuds/TheMourningMadam)

“You are a coward, Draco Malfoy! A complete and utter _coward!”_ Granger shoved him with a harsh push to his chest. “You lack any sense of virtue or integrity!” 

Draco stumbled back at her assault and sat down atop a pile of mismatched textbooks. Unable to lift his eyes to meet her, he burned with shame as the truth in her words scorched through him. Upon learning of his impossible task, Granger had offered to assist Draco with approaching the Order, to fight for him against her friends. In the trunk at the foot of his bed, the conditions of his defection were carefully laid out alongside offerings of information about the Dark Lord’s covert meetings. 

“I can’t do it, Hermione. You don’t understand what I am going through,” he mumbled, leaning his palms on his knees as he attempted to draw in ragged breaths. “He’s going to kill my mother. He will make me kill my mother.”

His voice broke as he confessed the dire circumstances surrounding his decision. Granger stepped into him, sliding her hands beneath the collar of his shirt as she pulled him into her belly. “Draco, we need to go to Dumbledore with this information. He will believe everything you tell him. We will convince the others of your intentions.” 

His heart felt as though it was being ripped from its place in his chest. The weight of his next admission squeezed it as though in a vice. This was it. The unforgivable. “Hermione—” he felt as though he would vomit as he spoke, “they-they come tonight.”

“Who? Who’s coming?” Her voice escalated in pitch until she neared hysterical. The hands that had been rubbing soothing circles over his shoulder blades now shook him violently. “Answer me! _Who is coming?”_

Raising his face to meet hers, Draco couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Her amber eyes searched his, desperation evident as they filled with tears. Everything he couldn’t voice became clear to her and she took a step back, her hand over her mouth. “You didn’t. Tell me you’re lying.” 

Unable to face her, Draco hung his head. Training his eyes on her feet as she took large steps away from him. Her hands shook at her sides and a sob tore from her throat. “What have you done, Draco?”

He closed his eyes to the sound of her footsteps as they reverberated from the stacks of rubbish around the Room of Hidden Things. 

What _had_ he done?


	13. The Killing Fields

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Killing Fields  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Kyonomiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyonomiko/pseuds/Kyonomiko)

Draco Malfoy could tell you the moment Tom Riddle was fated to die. It was the moment the monster dared touch Hermione Granger.

She had been laid out on the Malfoys’ cold floor, wounds from his aunt’s blade still weeping, and Riddle had crucio’d her in anger, punishing the witch for Potter’s escape. Draco had stood by, face shrouded with feigned indifference, while inside he boiled and raged. How dare he touch her. Hurt her. 

Draco had exchanged a look with his mother, and she had nodded. It was time for this to end, and the Malfoys would, as always, take back the power they are due.

After that, Draco had watched Hermione suffer and starve in his family home, barely able to sneak bread and water, sharing only a meaningful glance as his fingers grazed hers through the bars. Their time would come, he knew. Only a little longer.

Three torturous days pass, Draco railing at his mother in their private rooms as Lucius looks on, haggard and hollow, eyes hardly seeing. But when the Dark Lord takes a meeting with Karkaroff, Draco makes his move.

Luring the snake is easy enough. She is a violent and vain thing, like an ancient dragon of legend. They lead her with rats, filling her with meat and blood, until they reach the part of the estate not written of in any records. The path through the gardens shown on no maps, the purpose only passed down through the patriarchs of the line. Here, the snake meets her end, and Draco watches the blood seep into the dirt, the last, lucky rat scurrying away.

By morning, Riddle is beside himself. “Where is Nagini,” he hisses at his followers. Humbly, Narcissa answers.

“My Lord, she hunts often in my gardens. Shall I look for her?”

“I will go myself,” he bites back. “Show me!”

And so, mother and son lead, arm in arm as if making a turn about a garden party. The Dark Lord stalks just behind, growling for haste; begging for Nagini to make herself known.

“Here, My Lord. She finds rats in the gladiolus. Perhaps she is there?”

He tears into the tall stalks, breaking stems and sweeping his cloak through the foliage. Draco watches, stoic, his mother standing equally strong.

“I do not see her,” the wizard says, spinning in place and looking toward the ground.

“Perhaps if you look beneath the blooms,” Draco offers. “It’s so dense to see through…”

And so he does, the desperate Lord, until his head and shoulders slip beneath the swaying stems. His cry comes next, howling his snake’s name, deteriorating quickly into a strangled, gurgling sound.

They stand, waiting, until the earth absorbs the man that had threatened the Malfoy home. Runes rend flesh and spirit, all hidden by vibrant flowers, shaped as swords and born of spilled blood.

Draco spits in the dirt before turning to run back to the house, to his witch he has kept waiting too long.

**Author's Note:**

> [VOTE HERE](https://forms.gle/1MuPJEAFW15zTDVs6)


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